


Be Careful What You Wish For

by KousKousx



Series: Kous' Drabbles [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Crying, Gen, I'm Sorry, Sadness, everyone is crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 22:24:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4937485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KousKousx/pseuds/KousKousx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the additional tourists now on Earth, the news of Rick Sanchez’ incarceration had flashed across news scrolls and headlines alike. There, on the first page of The Neroptzzzr Journal, was Rick’s head shot. Covered with mug stains from his father’s morning coffee, it stared up at Morty until he tossed it in the trash. Un-Beta'd. Random Drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Careful What You Wish For

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, just a drabble, it's un-beta'd so you've been warned. Sorry if it's sad, sorry if it's shit. I don't own Rick and Morty or anything else that's copyrighted.

Morty stood frozen in place in the hallway across from Rick’s room.

The door was ajar, which was unusual. Since his departure, it was a silent understanding between the remaining Smith family to avoid Rick’s room at all costs. Morty knew mom had gone in there once or twice previously, for whatever reason she had. If anyone had been the culprit, it had to have been her. Perhaps she found some more clothes of Rick’s lying around and had to hide them away. Perhaps she needed to guzzle down another glass of Merlot. Whatever the reason was, Morty imagined no one else took the time to stand about in Rick’s room, wondering how he was holding up, rotting away in prison.

With the additional tourists now on Earth, the news of Rick Sanchez’ incarceration had flashed across news scrolls and headlines alike. There, on the first page of _The Neroptzzzr Journal_ , was Rick’s head shot. Covered with mug stains from his father’s morning coffee, it stared up at Morty until he tossed it in the trash

Morty never thought a prison could hold Rick down. Just seemed--so _below_ Rick. He couldn’t believe that his grandpa Rick, who could build death-defying machines out of a few pieces of soldering and paperclips couldn’t weasel his way out of jail, no matter how thick the walls were or how nasty and brutal the guards could be. It was almost like he wanted to be there.

Morty reached for the doorknob and squeezed the cold metal, ready to pull it shut, to make his way to bed. Yet there he stood in the doorway, staring at the pitch black swallowing the room like he was waiting for something. A light to switch on. Drunken murmuring. A greeting. Anything but darkness. Anything but nothing.

Against better judgement, Morty pushed his way in and switched on the lights, taking in the state of Rick’s room. Rick only slept in his bedroom every so often. He was usually more keen to pass out in the garage in a puddle of his own dribble. Even so, there were still little pieces of him strewn about the place.

Various blueprints dotted the walls and the floor. Some were gadgets that saw the light of day, some were merely ideas that did not. That would never. Morty swallowed thickly as he walked forward, nearly leaping out of his skin at the sound of beer cans crushing below his feet. He settled himself down on the bed and ran a hand through his hair, knees knocking against one another quickly.

He was wondering just what the hell he was doing in here, and why he couldn’t find it in himself to leave.

There was a lump digging into the back of his thigh, and Morty reached under the itchy blanket to remove it. In his hand was a flask. Rick had a few of them, this one wasn’t anymore special than the rest. But Morty saw his reflection staring up at him and he looked wide eyed and perturbed. Tired and restless. Angry and sad all at the same time.

Unscrewing the top, Morty ignored the hot smell of acid as he tilted the flask back against his lips and sipped. He nearly curled forward and vomited but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, looking to the ceiling as his vision swam. Dust that was there before Rick even left was still collecting on the paint. Morty took another drink and allowed himself to lay back on the cot so he could count the cobwebs in the corners.

Morty could smell Rick. He had a very distinct scent-- _Old Spice_ , sweat, and thick plumes of chemical smoke. The bed stunk of him, enough to remind Morty of who it belonged to. Enough to make tears prick the corners of his eyes, despite his best efforts.

It had been two months since Rick left and just now Morty was feeling himself fall apart by the strings. Really, life resumed as if Rick had never wandered back into the family’s home in the first place--well, as much as it could, considering Earth’s new alien inhabitants. Morty couldn’t help but think, why now? What did Rick do to deserve such pity, anyway? He left them, _again_. He had to have known what he was doing, getting involved in shady deals and rebelling against the government on an intergalactic scale.

Morty felt angry at Rick for breaking his mother's heart again. For reminding him, then and there, by smell alone, that Morty had told himself he would never forgive him.

Yet there he laid, in Rick’s bed, flask in hand and his eyes leaking. Feeling crushing guilt claw deep into his guts, to settle down there and destroy him.

From time to time, when Rick would drag him on dangerous adventures, feeling particularly nasty that day, belittling him or showing no concern for his safety, Morty would dream of having a normal life. Without Rick. Where he would sit in school and make friends, not get tossed about the galaxy.

Morty had wondered what it was like, and now he knew. It was only then that he admitted how miserable it made him.

 


End file.
